Transfiguration: no shades of gray, only glory

“For the glory of God is a living human; and the life of a person consists in beholding God. For if the manifestation of God which is made by means of the creation, affords life to all living in the earth, much more does that revelation of the Father which comes through the Word, give life to those who see God.” – Irenaus, Adverses Haereses 4.34.5-7

“The revelation of the Father which comes through the Word gives life to those who see God.”

There is an old tradition that those who see God will die. Understandable; the most reliable time for meeting one’s maker is at death’s door. Still, there are those who have sought God out and lived to tell the tale.

Take Moses, on the mountaintop; and when he came down from his encounter with the glory of God, his face shone so brightly that the people begged him to veil it.

Elisha refuses to turn back from his journey with Elijah, even though the prophets warn him of what is coming. They are not asking him to abandon Elijah in his final hours; they are seeking to save Elisha’s life, knowing that he risks seeing God and dying right alongside his master.

Except that Elisha doesn’t die. In fact, he becomes even more alive. He inherits a double share of Elijah’s spirit, just as he asked. In the verses that follow, he returns to the Jordan with Elijah’s rolled-up cloak, and marks the flowing water into separate pieces just as Elijah did, just as Moses did at the Red Sea, and God confirms his call by drawing the waters apart and sending him back to the doubtful prophets on dry land.

Peter, James, and John, unlikely prophets, hardly men you’d mark down as mystics, are invited into the mystery of God’s glory revealed in the person of Jesus, blazing through him like an all-consuming fire. And they heard the voice of God, the voice that spoke out at the baptism of Jesus in the Jordan, now telling his disciples, “listen to him.” And although they would witness the death of God on the cross, they also knew resurrection, and they all lived to tell the tale, and lived and told it passionately.

“For the glory of God is a living human; and the life of the person consists in beholding God.”

*

The last of our baptismal covenant promises asks, “Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?” For the glory of God is a living human, and the manifestation of God is what affords life to all living in the earth.

There are many challenges to this promise. Some are clear: murder, mayhem, the death of the young at the hands of the deranged and the over-armed. We have heard the slogans: Black lives matter. Blue lives matter. Moslem lives matter. Women’s lives matter. All lives matter. The glory of God is a living human being. Respect the dignity of every human being.

Sure, sometimes, the issues are nuanced. But sometimes, the grey areas themselves are just smudges, dirt that been smeared around rather than being wiped clean.

*

Speaking of grey areas, I have been challenged this Valentine’s weekend by the release of a certain movie, about which I know there are differing opinions, but which many have criticized as symptomatic of the fifty or more ways in which our culture has glorified power and eroticized violence that has nothing to do with true intimacy, and much less to do with dignity, let alone love.

It’s not an easy subject to think about, let alone talk about. But I read a blog by a Presbyterian minister – I’ll post the link to our facebook page – and at one point she says this,

Meanwhile the rest of the world watches. Friends, you do know they are watching, don’t you? Because Christ’s resurrection makes us one family with people around the world, they are our sisters and daughters and nieces and mothers. While women we [meaning, I think, her Presbyterian church] love and partner with in Congo try to heal from the physical and emotional scars of rape, we are munching on popcorn watching violations of physical and emotional safety being sexualized. While we lay down 20 bucks to be “entertained” by sexualized violence, young men and women in the Philippines are outsourced to Malaysia where they must service 21 men a night in order to eat the next day.

Do you see the connection?

The author of the blog, Shannon Beck, suggests not seeing the movie, and instead donating the cost of a movie ticket and popcorn to a local women’s shelter or an international organization. I’ve donated my twenty bucks to a local organization here in Cleveland that helps to prevent human trafficking and supports its survivors, those living right here among us.

*

We are all connected, and what we teach by our actions, accidentally or one purpose, will be learned by those who watch us. Whether in the arena of community relations or race relations, or even in romantic or domestic relations, the kinds of relationships that we make and break will show the world what we mean by love, respect, and dignity. We are always an example to someone, no matter what kind of example we may be.

*

When I think about Transfiguration, about the glory of God made manifest in the Son of Man, I remember a summer’s day, July 7th. Across the ocean, London was in bedlam, murder and mayhem wielded by the deranged and the over-armed had just taken place. Here, the day dawned bright, clear, sunny. At the pool, it was playday, the last morning in the week’s swimming lesson sessions. A gaggle of children slid down the slide, hauled themselves out of the water, and round and round to do it again. My friend sat down beside me. “I’m sorry they attacked your country,” she said. We sat together in silence, watching the children go round and round. The lifeguards tried to dampen at least some of their exuberance. “No running!” The children stopped running. But they did not walk. Instead, they began to skip. Round and round, down the slide, out of the pool, and skipping, skipping away, and laughing, their lifeguards laughing with them with unfeigned delight, at their courage, their creativity, the dignity of their choices, their irrepressible joy.

They were my example that day of the glory of God in the human being fully alive, bright lights shining in dark times.

Those children deserve to grow up with justice and the promise of peace. They deserve to grow up knowing the dignity of their bodies as well as their souls, deserving of respect, knowing how to demonstrate respect to one another. They deserve better than shades of grey; they deserve the light that shines brighter than any fuller can bleach it. They deserve not light at the end of the tunnel, but the brightness of God’s love surrounding them this and every day. No exceptions.

They will not die if they see God. We will not die from seeking or from seeing God, nor from showing God’s love to one another. Indeed, it is the only way to become fully, brightly alive.

Posted in sermon | Tagged , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Transfiguration

thunderous light falling
crushing sight and sound,
revealing in the core
of being darkness
split by the silver of
a sharp-edged mirror sliver,
cracked images dancing;
resplendent shards

Posted in lectionary reflection, poetry, prayer | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Year B Epiphany 5: by all means

It is the second to last week of Sundays after Epiphany, and in the sermon series that we’ve been following, it is time for the fourth promise of our Baptismal Covenant:

Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself. (I will, with God’s help.)

Last week, we imagined ourselves as not only Christ’s hands and feet in the world, but his beating heart, a tangible sign of God’s love to another. This week, turn and turn about, we seek the heart of Christ in those before us, those around us, those behind us. We who are sealed at baptism as Christ’s own forever, indelibly marked, seek out the signs of Christ in those around us, knowing that no one is made in the image of God unless all are; no one bears Christ’s cross unless it is the one bowed down by the burden, cast out by the crowd, the one raised to glory by the grace of God.

Paul spoke of being all things to all people, not because he was manipulative, or had no sense of himself; Paul seems, most of the time, to have a rather strong self-confidence, in fact, and an almost foolish tendency towards politically incorrect and unpopular statements.

He speaks of becoming all things to all people for the sake of the gospel, for the love of Christ and the love of those he seeks to reach with the good news that the kingdom of God has been brought near, declared to be at hand by Jesus, whose word is true.

In order to love his neighbour as himself, he tries to become his neighbour, to put himself in a different skin, let his heart beat to a different rhythm, in order to reach out with compassion, understanding, love.

Paul wasn’t always so understanding. At the beginning, he was the worst kind of extremist, colluding and condoning the killing of Christians for their religion, for what he understood to be their blasphemy, their apostasy.

When Stephen was stoned to death, Paul cynically stood by, guarding the belongings of the lynch mob, consenting to their murderous rampage. A zealot for the Law, he watched as the fifth commandment was broken, buried, and he consented to the madness. He was the worst kind of extremist.

And even Paul was capable of redemption. In fact, a man named Ananias, a disciple in Damascus, was sent to seek Paul out at the house where he was staying, since his strange encounter with the light of Christ on the road, which had left him sightless.

Ananias was sent to seek out Paul and to serve him with the gospel. Ananias laid hands on the man (who at that time was still named Saul, not yet Saint Paul), saying,

“Brother Saul, the Lord Jesus who appeared to you on the road by which you came, has sent me that you may regain your sight and be filled with the Holy Spirit.”

Perhaps it was the example of Ananias, and the few others who trusted in his conversion, that taught Paul how to see beyond the past and into the soul of another, becoming as one under the law to the in-laws, and as one without the law to the outlaws.

Most of us, God willing, will not have need to seek out the worst kind of extremists and serve them as Christ’s own anointed, although it’s worth considering.

But we are called to seek and serve strangers, however shy we may feel of them, who are our neighbours, deserving of our love, and of the gospel.

Even Jesus, rather than staying in the family home in which he had plenty of healing work still to do, what with the whole town crowding around the door, set out to seek and serve others in the region, others who might need the gospel, others who needed Christ.

Christianity is in some ways a restless religion. St Augustine, who although not an extremist like Paul, was in his youth and well into adulthood rather profligate; Augustine recognized that restlessness as that which draws us closer to God, compelling us to seek God out in the working out of the gospel, of grace, of love. In the very beginning of his Confessions, he writes,

“you have made us for yourself, and our hearts are restless until they can find peace in you.”

Our hearts are restless, ever seeking God; what better use to put that restless energy to than to seek and serve Christ in those around us, our neighbours whom we are called to love as ourselves, the great commandment second only to the call to love God with mind, strength, and heart.

This morning we commission our new Vestry and Officers for the year’s work ahead, and one of the things that we will be discussing as the year goes on is how we can become to others what they need us to be for them; not to manipulate them into church attendance or propping up our numbers, nor out of any lack of certainty about who we are, as Christians, as Episcopalians, as members of Epiphany. We can keep our identity and our integrity strong, and out of that strength, founded in the gospel, built on the solid foundation of Christ, we can reach out to others, enter their skin, hear their heartbeats, dance to their rhythm.

Do you remember who first sought out and served you with the gospel? Maybe it wasn’t as explicit as, “Little girl, do you have a moment to talk about Jesus?” Maybe it was more like a gentle touch, a word of encouragement, the knowledge that you were valued, and loved, and over time, the realization that this was absolutely consistent with all of those stories about God seeking and saving the little lost sheep, seeking and serving rough fishermen and their mothers-in-law, feeding with broken bread and wine the multitudes and the select few friends, indiscriminately.

Someone once asked me the question, “What difference would it have made in your life if you had never heard the gospel, never known the love of Christ?” It hit me like a rock; I could see the answer and it moved me to tears. For a moment I was as sick and unsteady as Simon Peter’s mother-in-law before Jesus grasped her by the hand and lifted her up.

Do you remember how it happened to you? Can you become the person who does the same for another child of God, another lost sheep, another lonely soul?

Jesus went out from the house where he was staying while it was still dark, and watched the sunrise in prayer: “From the rising of the sun to its setting, the Lord’s name be praised.”

And they came to him and said, “Everyone is looking for you.” And he answered, “But where is the one I am seeking, the one who most needs me today?” And they went out, seeking to serve the others.

He came seeking us, serving us; Christ the Lord, all things to all people, and always good news to see him coming. And he bids us follow.

Amen.

Posted in sermon | Tagged | Leave a comment

The old, rugged cross

made for glory
in crystal and ivory;
god’s gory death in the
creative imagination;
torture transformed into
breathtaking beauty;

 
would he
tear down our totems,
turn over tables,
whip us weeping into
the the night at the sight
of his pain reframed?

 
such foolishness;
whispering, “scandalous,”
we shun him
for blasphemy

inspired by a reflection by the Revd Dr Harold Lewis, interim rector at St Paul’s Episcopal Church, Cleveland Heights, Ohio

Posted in meditation, poetry | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Year B Epiphany 4: love and knowledge

Despite the density of so much of his writing, Paul does have his poetic moments.

“Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up,” he proclaims to the Corinthians. In the intricacy of the argument about idols and eating, it would be easy to miss, but it is a little gem, nestled into a messy setting too fussy for it. “Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up.”

The bit about eating meat is, frankly, for us a red herring. We can allegorize it to a million different temptations, distractions, kindnesses and customs that give us pause, wondering whether we are wounding the consciences of others by flaunting our freedom, the freedom founded in our forgiveness, our foothold in the established order, and our frail grasp of power dynamics. But the principle behind the thing is all about love.

Love builds up.

I am not by any means anti-intellectual. There are those who would argue that is one of my failings. But having been raised by educators and taught at the kitchen table not to randomly split infinitives [that hurt to type], nor to end sentences with a preposition, I can claim to have been branded with a certain respect for knowledge, and I don’t think Paul is so different, either. He is not disparaging the accumulation of knowledge – after all, he says, we all have it, we all know stuff – but it is how we use it that defines the kind of Christians that we are. Knowledge by itself puffs up, makes us vain, arrogant even; but when love guides its use, its application, we are deflated, not diminished but brought back to our proper proportions, so that we can do our part to build up others.

There is a humility to love which knowledge alone lacks. Elsewhere in this same letter, in another poetic flight, Paul writes that, “Love does not insist on its own way.” Whereas knowledge – O God – knowledge knows that it is right, and it will fight to be heard and it will not take no for an answer. Hell hath no fury like the one who knows that she is right, and who scorns the ignorant.

Knowledge certainly has its place in the pantheon of superpowers, and without it love may have little backbone. But speaking from experience, and less poetically than Paul, knowledge without love can be a bit of a jerk.

This is more than a “catch more flies with honey than with vinegar” argument. It is not a strategy, but a way of being, a way of being that we are called to as Christians.

When Jesus arrived in Capernaum, he did two things right away. First of all, he taught. Knowledge clearly is a good thing; he taught with confidence, with authority, with a firm grasp of scripture and of the will of God, and the people were engaged and amazed. Then, perceiving that an evil spirit was in the place, he paused. He put down his scroll. He took the knowledge that this was the Sabbath, that this was the synagogue, and he took the knowledge of what was expected of a rabbi teaching, and of the people gathered, and he rolled them up and hid them in his robe. For now, that knowledge could wait. Even the demon’s knowledge of him, naming him, crying out, that knowledge, too, could wait.

For the moment, it was love’s turn to speak, to teach with its own authority. “Be quiet, and come out of him,” said Love, for the love of God, for the love of humanity, for the love of this one man, standing before the beating heart of God.

The third promise in our baptismal covenant speaks of proclaiming the gospel, the good news of God in Christ, by word and example, in word and deed – as Jesus does in the synagogue, speaking the word of God to the people, enacting it in healing work. It is the perfect marriage of knowledge and love, word and deed.

The good news of God in Christ is that we know through Christ that God loves the world that God has made, so much so that God would die for it, would live for it, will not let it go, no matter how far from God it may fall.

We possess that knowledge, as Paul points out; but knowledge too often brushes away our fears, turns tactfully away from our tears. Knowledge too often finds an end in itself. Rather than using it to puff ourselves up, we must make sure that our knowledge is made useful to those who need to know that God loves them, without exception; that God calls them back from the grave; that God waits to embrace them; not because we know it all and are boastful, but because we have received in all humility the greatest good news a person can know: that we are loved.

Love, which brushes away our tears, hugs away our fears. Love, in humility, offers itself as a building block for one whose life has been demolished, for one whose hope lies in rubble.

We can proclaim the good news of the gospel with words, with letters and bumper stickers and public prayers and private conversations. But it will fall on deaf ears unless we can back it up with deeds, with acts of kindness, mercy, forgiveness; waiting on opportunities to demonstrate God’s embrace.

Perhaps, after all, poetic Paul puts it the best.

“If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing.

Love is patient and kind; love is not jealous or boastful; it is not arrogant or rude. Love does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrong, but rejoices in the right. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never ends; as for prophecies, they will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away.”

But love endures.

I think of that man, in the synagogue at Capernaum, standing before the beating heart of God and understanding, once and for all, what love can do. I think of that old saying, that we are Christ’s hands and feet in this world now, and I wonder what it would feel like to become, too, the beating heart of God, to offer that love wherever we are able.

And I give thanks, that we are able still to come before the heart of God, offered for us in the sweet sacrifice of love, and know, and know, that we are forgiven, healed, renewed by the love of God.

Amen.

Posted in sermon | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Matthew and the measles

Matthew’s dad had the afternoon off work, so he did some Christmas shopping before heading over to the nursery school to pick up his young son. Excited about his purchases, he showed my mother the sweater he had picked out for Matthew.
“Isn’t it a beautiful blue?” He barely got the words out before he heard them for himself and started to cry. Stood there at the schoolroom door, in front of my mother, he sobbed. “I’m sorry.”
The colour of a small sweater had swept him up into a dream, a world in which his son could still see, would still grow, and know everything his father had dreamt for him from the start.
But Matthew had contracted measles, on the eve of his vaccination appointment, and the virus took his sight, gifted him with severe epilepsy, and broke his father’s heart.
Vaccinating isn’t always straightforward. My eldest daughter had an allergy to egg, which is not in the vaccine, but is in contact with it. She was vaccinated in the hospital, under observation, just in case. I can imagine a circumstance in which the risk would have been too high. But I also remembered Matthew.
Thirty- some years later, I always remember Matthew.

Posted in other words | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Love song

Love slips in under cover of night,
stealing between the dreams of dragons
and shining armour,
adjusting the light, a lingering
note humming on the edge of hearing
as you wake and put your hand to your heart,
as you always do, to check, and feel not the
solid rock on which you have come to rely,
but a fleshy thing, quivering,
blood running cold until, behind the beat,
the siren song calls you into the light.

Posted in poetry | Leave a comment

Year B Epiphany 3: repent and return

When I was a child, I was one of those daydreamers who could get lost in a world of my own. If I were reading a book, I might surface from it to find my mother standing in front of me with her hands on her hips, lips pursed, “If I’ve called you once, I’ve called you ten times,” she might say, and it was probably true. Lost in a world of imagination, I wouldn’t hear her, until I came back to this dimension, this reality, with a bump.

In the distracted times in which we live now, I sometimes wish I could reclaim that single-mindedness, that total immersion in other worlds, or even in the tasks of this one. But there was a time that detachment almost killed me.

We used to travel, every year, to St David’s, a jewel on the coast of west Wales, a city by designation but a fishing village by design. We were walking on the coastal path, a national heritage trail that wound around the cliffsides overlooking the sandy bays with their seals and seagulls. I was skipping ahead, off in my own world again, some story running through my head, when from a great distance I heard not one but both of my parents, and my brother, call my name, and then, “STOP!”

Thus rudely awakened from my daydream, I paused, looked up, saw nothing but seagulls and sky; looked down, and discovered that my foot was on the edge of the cliff, hundreds of feet above the rockfall at the top of the beach. The path behind me made a ninety-degree turn. I, lost again, had failed to turn with it.

We hear the word, “repent,” in two out of three readings today. You have probably heard before that the word means to turn, to change direction, although Frederick Buechner, in his ABC of religious words, writes that,

“To repent is to come to your senses.”*

To come to your senses: to return to reality, to see things as they really are, rather than continuing blindly, or blunderingly, in a dangerous direction.

When Jonah went to Nineveh, to tell them to repent and return to the Lord, the instruction was pretty straightforward. Nineveh had a reputation for sinful living. It was the city that never slept, the city of a thousand idols, the capital city of the Assyrian Empire, the subject of oodles of oracles of doom; the sin of the city was straightforward and well known and their need for repentance obvious in Israel.

Nineveh was so sunk in its own sin that it took the voice of an outsider, an individual prophet with a strange accent and a sulky demeanour, to attract the attention of the citizens and bring them to their senses. Perhaps it was the smell of fish guts that cut through the perfume of their parties and got them to pay attention to the word of God spoken among them. Whatever it was, they responded, they repented, as a community, as a city, as an empire, of their wickedness, their ungodliness, their vanity and their vaingloriousness; they repented before God, and God relented, and restored them to God’s good favours.

On the other end of the spectrum we find a handful of fishermen, going about their daily business, nothing much to see here, no great evil, no great shakes. Still, Jesus spoke to them, and it was the ones who were paying attention to the words of God, the wind of God, which way the Holy Spirit was blowing today, the ones with a weather-eye, who kept their senses alert and to hand, who were able to recognize the call, and change direction, change their lives on a dime, and follow Jesus.

“True repentance,” says Buechner, “spends less time looking at the past and saying, ‘I’m sorry,’ than to the future and saying, ‘Wow!’”*

Wow, because when we come to our senses, when we really begin to see things clearly: not through the fog of sin or disgrace, shame or discouragement, but through the sixth sense of grace, encouragement, forgiveness, acceptance, love; then we begin to see all that God has done for us, all that God has created for us to live into, all that God is to us, and wants for us, and offers us.

Paul, to the Corinthians, writes that the present form of this world is passing away; he encourages them to see through the distractions of daily living, to give up the drugs of distraction with which we dull our senses; to come to our sense of grace, of God’s power, of glory.

That is what repentance can do: restore our souls to grace, free our hearts from shame, open our minds to wonder.

The second promise of our Baptismal covenant reads,

“Will you persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord? I will, with God’s help.” (BCP)

The avoidance of evil is not passive but an active and persistent job of work. We know that too well in these days of media coverage and interconnectedness. But the spiritual work of repentance and returning, that is an undercurrent of daily life, a rhythm of fall and return, suspense and resolution, lost and found we come to our senses with one foot in the air, and God and our community calling us to turn, return, come back to reality.

The spiritual work of repentance and return is continual, and it is about living in the real world; not the world of illusions and disillusions, but the world created by God, redeemed and sustained by the God in whom we live and move and have our being. It is about seeing ourselves and one another through the lens of a loving God, the only reality. William Temple once wrote,

“To repent is to adopt God’s viewpoint in place of your own. There need not be any sorrow about it. In itself, far from being sorrowful, it is the most joyful thing in the world, because when you have done it you have adopted the viewpoint of truth itself, and you are in fellowship with God.”**

We don’t do it alone. We can’t do it alone.

To Nineveh, the city so loud that it could be heard across the sea, God sent Jonah, one grumpy and recalcitrant little prophet with a chip on his shoulder and horrible stench of fish guts. To the Corinthians he sent Paul. To the fishermen he sent Jesus.

We get to hear them all. Left to ourselves, lost in our own little worlds of individuality, illusion, self-delusion we might be lost, we might even fall. But we are not left alone.

We have one another. We have the voices, perhaps, of our parents, or our godparents, calling us back from the edge of the cliff, calling us back to our senses. We have our faith community, to help us work out together where the path should go, when we are lost. We have one another, to help each other along the way, when someone needs help to turn around, or move forward, or go back.

When repentance happens – and it can, it should happen every day that our senses are alive – when repentance happens, it should stop us in our tracks. It should bring us to our knees. It should lift us to the skies. It should restore our souls to grace and to glory, offering us a God’s-eye view of our lives and the lives of those we are called to love, with God’s help.

Amen.

*Frederick Buechner, Wishful thinking: a seeker’s ABC, revised and expanded edition (HarperSanFrancisco, 1993), 96

**William Temple, Christian Faith and Life, 67, quoted in L. William Countryman, Forgiven and Forgiving (Morehouse Publishing, 1998), 2

Posted in sermon | Tagged | Leave a comment

For tomorrow’s sermon: a little story about repentance

Once upon a time, I was a little girl, and that little girl had the attention span of a sphinx. I would get seriously, eternally lost in books, daydreams, and the stories and songs which soundtracked my inner mind. Fire, flood, and dinner time had no impact, no entrance into my trance state.
Sometimes, I wish I could still go there, that interior world where nothing distracts or disturbs. But there was that one time when going off on my own, with no heed to the realities of this life, almost killed me.
We were walking out on a summer’s day near Whitsuntide. We were on the coastal path in west Wales near St David’s, a beautiful place full of wonder and beauty, but I was not there. Skipping ahead, I was lost again in my own thoughts, my own world, my own head.
As if from far away somehow the alarm came through, all three of them shouting my name in unison, mother, father, brother, then, “STOP!”
I paused, bewildered, shaken out of the waking sleep of a daydream. I looked up and saw the sky, and seagulls wheeling. I looked down, and saw the rocks below. My foot gripped the ground an inch from the cliff edge.
Behind me, the path turned ninety degrees around a bluff. I had not.
My ashen faced family waited for me to return.
Repentance is sometimes described as a change in direction, a turning around. Frederick Buechner calls it “coming to your senses.” (Buechner, Wishful thinking: a seeker’s abc, HarperSanFrancisco, 1993), 96). It means finding reality in the midst of illusion, delusion, denial, grappling with the reality of God in the surreality of life. Sometimes, it takes others to call us back from the brink. If we will only pay them some attention, instead of getting lost each in our own, infinite little worlds.

Posted in sermon preparation, story | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

ecclesiastes 3: when?

When is the time for war,
o God of peace?
When is the time to laugh,
Man of Sorrows?
When is the time to die,
immortal One?
When is the time to speak,
o silent One?
When is the time for hatred,
rejected and reviled?
When is the time to lose,
o seeker of souls?
When is the time to break down,
to build up, to throw stones or to gather,
o rock of ages?
When you laid the foundations of the earth,
did they dance?
Did we miss it?

Posted in poetry, prayer | Tagged , , | 2 Comments